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Scumdogs of the Universe

"Scum!," shouted the large man in fatigues. "Degenerates! Heretics! Filth! All of you are mine now!" The lieutennant stopped to spit in the ashy dust. A small puff of dust picked up where the phlegm landed. He looked out from underneath his soft forage cap. His men, his Scumdogs, were lined up in the sweltering heat. Sweating, glistening, they cooked while he enjoyed the comfort brough by his shaded podium. Surveying the scene, he noted with pleasure that every single one of them, new and old, were relatively at attention. They should be, his enforcer Altan was out patrolling the crowd. Lieutennant Balsac idly noted there were about 60 of the condemned. He grinned as Altan paused to club one of them with his cudgel. Obviously the brute had noticed the man wasn't totally in regimental formation. He remembered detachedly that it was the sniper he had requested transfer into his Penal regiment. Good, thought the Lieutennant. Better they learn nice and early they don't matter anymore. Balsac chuckled as he noted the furious gleam on the snipers face, but then watched him back down as he noted the armed guards manning the compound walls.

"Each and every one of you are here because you have been deemed unworthy in the eyes of the Emperor!" he shouted, as he resumed his speech. "Your salvation is not my concern. Some believe as long as you die in the Service of the Emperor, you are saved. I do not. You are here to die for ME. You are here, to die, so that a worthy soldier does not have to! You are here to be used as one might use a hunting hound. If the hound suits, reward it and it shall be good to you. However, should the hound not suit, take it outside and have it shot. There is no use here for any of you who expect anything other than blood and death."

The Lieutennant paused, and gestured to a figure standing with him. "This is Imperial Commisar Raphael Grit. He shall be your compass. Should you be found wanting, He has Ultimate Authority over all of you." Balsac nodded to the commisar. Grit paced down the steps, off of the podium, and into the crowd. He began patrolling the group, much as Altan was doing. However, where Altan was whipping the troops into formation, correcting mistakes, Grit was going down the lines, staring each and every trooper in the face. He was making his judgements upon the troops.

GM: This is a small Imperial compound, roughly 50 miles outside Hive Tertius. "Savior's Roost," as it is termed, is roughly about a quarter mile long, and three quarters wide. There are high walls surrounding the interior, 15 feet high. They have a walkway around the top for gunners to fire down, both outside the wall and inside. It resembles a prison yard inside, mostly empty except for barracks, the motor pool, the Munitorium building and a couple other facilities. All buildings but the barracks are heavily fortified and guarded by Imperial Guard of the Chelonian 42nd. They wear dark blue combat fatiges, and black flak armor over it. They have reflective visors on their helmets, so that you can't see their faces. A high tech guard regiment, their average soldiers are about as well equipped as standard Imperial Stormtroopers. Their suits are made out of a fabric that easily resists the desert heat, despite the color of their armor.

Savior's Roost is pentagonal shaped, and is situated in the middle of evaporated salt flats. It is used as a rally point for the Penal Legionares, because if they escape there is nowhere to run to.

Your current situation: Everyone is in formation and unarmed. The orks are on their way, but nobody knows that yet. Post thoughts and reactions, but do not break formation until after Commisar Grit gives his speech, and I say so.

You're such an inspiration for the ways that I will never ever choose to be
Oh so many way for me to show you how your Savior has abandoned you
**** your Lord, your Christ, he did this, took all you had and left you this way
Still you pray, never stray, never Taste of the Fruit, never thought to question "Why?"A Perfect Circle - Judith

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

I stared straight ahead, I was sweating bad and so was everyone else. Under the merciless heat of the sun none were spared the indignity of appearing before the Commissar drenched in sweat. I was feeling drowsy, so I silently let myself accept the calmness of the empty, windless yard. No need to get worked up, right?

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Running through Charon's mind: The heat is good. The pain is better. It feeds my anger. But for a few cruel twists of fate, these bastards would be cleaning my boots with their spittle. That loudmouth up the front, with his missing jaw and that rediculous metal replacement and his pet grox Altan... on an even playing field, they'd never see me, never hear the bullet that killed them. Not here, though. Not now. My time will come. Their time will come... I won't be cowed or bullied by the crude intimidation techniques that the Imperial Guard seems to substitue for discipline. This Grit though, now he looks like he knows the score. The bully boys and loudmouths are easy to peg; the Commissar is a quiet one, and I don't trust the quiet ones. I could do worse than to get on his good side. If he has one...

As the Commissar approaches, Charon stands up as straight as he can, in his best imitation of parade ground rigidity, and stares straight ahead, jaw clenched, unblinking in the glaring sunlight. He draws on all of his willpower, honed by long waits for a target to present itself in the stinking, murky depths of the hive, and doesn't move a muscle.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Bomber Betsy "I'm standing up tall and straight best I can cos I'm shorter than everybody else. I'm so busy standing tall and straight I'm not listening to what the lieutenant says. Besides, it's boring and he says the same thing all the time anyway.
A nasty man, the comissar stares right into my eyes and I feel sick and my heart starts pounding. I shrink down and cast my eyes to the floor. I'm shaking and when I look up he has moved down the line, but the feelings in my stomach are still there."

Somewhere, out there, in the vast nothingness of space. Somewhere far beyond space, and time.

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Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

I keep wondering how long they're going to make us stand here. As long as they like, I guess, it wouldn't surprise me if they just left us here to bake in the sun and used our bodies to make cover for the Guard regs, there's plenty more Penals where we came from. The Lieut is yelling something at us, but I've tuned his words out, its just a drone. We've heard enough of his motivational speeches to know what's in them by now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Altan moving along my row. I can hardly miss him, he's the size of a house. You could paint him green and he'd fit right in with the Orks we're fighting. I straighten my back even more than it already was, stare straight ahead, fix my facial muscles, give my best impersonation of the mythical perfect Imperial Guardsmen they show in the recruitment posters.

I begin to think I've got away without attracting his attention, but as the 2-I-C steps past me he stamps down on my foot and grins. I wince and my knees buckle just slightly as I barely suppress a yell, and he laughs out loud, moving on to the next victim. Still I stare blankly ahead, while my imagination grants me visions of a point blank stub round smearing his tiny brains all across the wall in front of me. Would he even notice? Stupid bastard.

Following close behind Altan is the Commissar. Oh Emperor. Altan's just a thug, he's fluked his way into seniority but he's no better than the rest of us. But the Commissar, you can tell he's the real deal. Tough as nails, totally fearless, completely dedicated to the Imperial cause. If he spots me do anything wrong he'll squeeze my head in that power fist of his until it bursts. He's the same height as me, too, so as he stops in front of me his face is directly level with mine. He's staring right at me, just like he did with the others. More beads of sweat run down my face, and not just because of the heat.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Mack looked ahead with nothing to show on his face. This was just another rant by the Captain and the Commissar. It was awe inspiring to be sure but he had heard it before and he had been through far too many battles to be moved by it anymore ... maybe if he had something to lose but ... nope.

He looked straight ahead and said nothing he stood and looked straight ahead the pair spent some time in front of him screaming and preaching which was always welcomed to those like Mack, looking for the Emperor's embrace, but hell would freeze over before Mack would show them anything but the killer he had been forced to become ever since his breakdown on Wyle XV.

Well no need to worry about the past especially when, by statistics he should've died years ago he figured he was on borrowed time anyway ... so best to be quiet.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

114-7-EATH finally came out of his drug induced dream. It helped he deal with the stress of the real world sometimes is body just acting on autopliot doing what ever it was told.

he was now on some battle flied he move his hand to the weapon in his pants yep it was still there. so he still had a chance to stay alive at least for a little while didn't sound like this place woudl be to safe.

looking around he saw alot of other poor souls in the same postion.

and as usally there was the captain or something other trying to rose us up to gve our lives. not on my wacth.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Grit surveyed each convict in turn, noting those who dared meet his gaze, and those who did not. "I'm not going to waste your time with declarations."
He said to the assembled troops. " You know who I am, more importantly, you know what I am. I'll cut to the chase. Your CO may be in charge, but
I will be watching you all like a Harkoni Skyhawk. My rules are simple.
Everyone fights. Nobody quits. You don't do you job, I'll shoot you myself."
To highlight the point, he went to a point in the formation where a man had attempted to meet his gaze, but had clearly been intimidated. "Trooper, do you know what the sentence for cowardice is?" The bolt pistol was out of the holster in the blink of an eye and trained on the trooper next to Rubik.
The discharge of the pistol was followed by the sick splat of blood and brains splattering on Rubik. "Read your uplifting primers, and take note of what they require of you." He said, voice even, resuming his place in front of the troops. "I will be punishing all infractions to the fullest extent of my authority I deem needed. Scum though you are, you will conduct yourselves as Imperial Guardsmen. You will adhere to disipline. You will not give ground to your foes. You will do these things, or you will face my wrath. That is all."

Last edited by Tanith Ghost; 21-01-2006 at 04:27.

Originally Posted by Muskrat

McGuyver could make a meltagun out of that. a meltagun with a coaxial plasma rifle.

All hail St.Olanius Pius. RHUF!

Originally Posted by Slaneshi Slave

Are you saying you don't worship Him?
I think my Adepta Sororitas will be paying you a visit soon.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Looking forward at the wall at the far end of the square, James was daydreaming of what was outside. It wouldn't be too much longer before he would be able to see it again, all he had to do was survive whatever the Commisar would send them to this time. As there were still 60 - the Commisar's shot echoed through the square - or rather 59 others left to throw in front of any harm that shouldn't become too difficult.

James wasn't too impressed anymore by the shooting of random prisoners, it wasn't something rare in here, and as long as it wasn't him getting shot he couldn't care less. And as long as he looked like he wasn't doing anything wrong, the ogre they called Altan would leave him alone too. Alltogether life in here wasn't too bad while there were easier targets for the two of them to pick on.

"It's better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid, than to open it and to remove all doubt."

Somewhere, out there, in the vast nothingness of space. Somewhere far beyond space, and time.

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1,658

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

[OOC: TG, its Rubik, not RubRik... I kinda knew somebody was going to put that rogue ' r ' in there at some point, but my character has nothing to do with Ahriman... having said that, you're the Commissar, so I'm not exactly going to argue over what you call me!]

Hassar Valen Rubik:

The crump of the bolt round, inside the head of the man next to me is a sickening sound, and being coated with the former contents of his skull isn't any better. A year ago I'd have gone to pieces right at that moment, but these days its almost to be expected. I'm sometimes surprised they let some of us get as far as being killed by the enemy. Besides, I didn't really know the poor sod who was stood next to me, so it could have been worse. It could have been me.

Read your uplifting primers, the Commissar had said. That's almost funny. I wonder if he's noticed the way the Primer describes the Orks we're fighting? Feeble and incompetent, with weapons that mostly fall apart before a shot is fired. That sure doesn't sound like our foe here on Tartarus Epsilon. Grit didn't sound like he was joking though, and the Black Hats [Commissars] aren't generally known for their sense of humour.

I really didn't fancy my chances of a getaway in this hellhole anyway, but now that Grit is here there's going to be an extra pair of eyes watching us. An extra single eye, anyway. Great.

I wonder if having the Commissar shoot me instead of the other guy would have been so bad after all....

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Eisendarth: I stand there thinking about the last chimera i drove and i start to let the heat get to my head.

Originally Posted by Slazton

If some one tried to equip themselves in power armour, a sub machine gun grafted to their left eye, a nuclear warhead strapped to their crotch and a titan class flamer thrower grafted onto their ****, then we would have a problem.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Charon:

Some poor sucker's head exploding doesn't phase me. Seen it a hundred times - like setting a spark cracker off inside a dune melon. What does bother me is the casual disregard for the lives of the men supposed to be fighting here. I've never seen one of these Orks before - all I know is what I've read in that propaganda-filled piece of latrine paper they call the Uplifting Primer, and I don't trust it. What I do know is, when it comes time for killing, the more of us there are the better for everyone involved. At least the Commissar has shown his metal - he's ice cold. Despite his itchy trigger finger, or maybe because of it, I like him already. If he wants to engage me in a shootout though, it's his funeral...

As the Commissar passes Charon, Charon looks him right in the good eye, but otherwise doesn't move.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

((Welcome back TG!))

Private Mack:

Wow. A bolt round to the head ... original. Nothing says real power like suffocating some no name who's cracked one too many jokes my your dead mother. Now that is power. I look the commissar in the eye as he passes me. In the end I am going to die in this scumhole legion anyway. Sooner or later doesn't matter anymore ...

I had heard enough about this Commissar Grit to know he was almost as bad as us ... but I wouldn't ever say that aloud ... I wasn't that dumb. I stand there and in the heat while sweat drops into my eyes and it burns but i dont move. No point in giving them a reason to shoot me.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

The Lieutennant was getting ready to continue his speech when one of the sentries on the walls reported a plume of dust rapidly approaching. It didn't match a dust-storm, lethal as they were they were readily recogniseable. As the moments went by, the noise of many engines, revving well beyond what they were designed to, slowly filled the air.

"ORKS!" went out the cry. "Spotted and identified, Sir! Kult of Speed by the looks of things!" shouted one of the men on the walls, his binox held high.

A twinkle formed in the eyes of Lieutenant Balsac. "You sorry excuses for men have an opportunity! An opportunity to break the enemy like a righteous hammer upon the Throne of Him on Earth!" With a nod, he allowed his orderly to command the opening of the Munitorum. "Lock and Load, Scumdogs! We got some Greenies to kill!"

GM: There are about a dozen bikes with single riders, outfitted with big shootas. There is Two trukks, one with the Nob and his retinue of Skarboys, and the other loaded up with Slugga Boyz. There are also three Wartrakks, each outfitted with a big shoota. These are a small detachment of the main Orkish force, looking for looting and mayhem. And maybe a good duff-up or two. Be careful if they manage to penetrate the walls, an Ork in close combat is no picnic.

You're such an inspiration for the ways that I will never ever choose to be
Oh so many way for me to show you how your Savior has abandoned you
**** your Lord, your Christ, he did this, took all you had and left you this way
Still you pray, never stray, never Taste of the Fruit, never thought to question "Why?"A Perfect Circle - Judith

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Bray
Oh man do I regret throwing that genade now.
If I had known that this is what I would be doing from now on.

Standing here I don't think anyone knows me, but then again who would. This mask really chafs in the heat, but its keeping the dust out and my beatten mug covered.

I don't think that Commissar likes me very much after what I've done to my uniform. What I only riped the one of the arms off my shirt. The shirt was tight and I needed to make room for my batting arm. It shows the dragon off too.

I love the kit I was given. Needs a little custom work like my friend "blunt" here but it's nice for starters.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Charon:

I run for the Munitorum and amidst the yelling and scrambling, I swipe my rifle case and head for the stairs leading to the top of the wall. I don't have much time. The guards in their weird uniforms stand aside - they know that they're going to need every gun they can get in this fight. I kneel behind the parapet and open my case - thankfully everything is where I left it. My damn head is throbbing like a sludge frog. This heat must be getting to me more than I thought. My rifle comes together quickly in my hands, almost like its eager to start the killing. I don't blame it.

The black dots at the base of the dustclouds are starting to take shape - a shape that jumps into sharp, clear focus as I bring the scope up to my eye. Emperor's teeth! I was right not to trust the Primer - these Orks things are enormous! And angry... The one I have lined up has a scar running across its horrific, pig-like snout. Good. If it can bleed, it can die. I adjust my grip on my rifle. My fingers are slippery from sweat. My head is killing me, feels like my brain is swelling. I need to concentrate. Breathe.

I exhale slowly and caress the trigger, tightening my finger into a squeeze. My rifle bucks as it releases the bullet, and I see the impact strike home right between the beast's eyes. It is thrown back in the saddle and I see its thick blood spray...

Then it sits forward, screams, and keeps riding! What the hells? How?

Never mind now - this thing will die today. I reload, take aim again, and squeeze. This time the bullet explodes through the Ork's eye and out the back of its skull, and the bike careens wildly out of control, narrowly missing another bike. It slides for a hundred feet or so before striking a rock and cartwheeling another 50 feet. Boom - it explodes.

Somewhere, out there, in the vast nothingness of space. Somewhere far beyond space, and time.

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1,658

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Hassar Valen Rubik:

The neat ranks of the Legionnaires dissolve in an instant as we all dash for our weapons and equipment. I reach my backpack and kneel down to inspect it. Everything looks like its still there. Good, you never know what might go missing, especially in the Penals. I clip my optic to the side of my autogun, snap the bayonet into place, load a fresh magazine, wrap and tie my grenade belt around my waist, and check that my stubgun is secured on the belt and has six rounds ready to go.

Looking up to the walls, I see that the Chelonians are flapping too, dashing around to man gun towers and fire ports. They've got their shiny toys to play with, but can they fight? I've seen a few Guard regiments who thought their tech was enough to see them through get rudely surprised. The Orks don't care, it just means that when they kill them they get more stuff to loot. Maybe that means the Orks will ignore us shabby Penals and go for those wannabe Stormies instead. Here's hoping. From up on the wall I hear the CRACK of a sniper rifle, once, then a second time. Somebody up there is keen. Our new pet sniper? It means the Orks are getting within gun range themselves though, which isn't good news. As if to confirm this, there's a faint tapping as Ork slugs patter off the external walls. Time to go get ourselves killed again.

Re: Scumdogs of the Universe

Mack:

Making my way to the Munitorum I finally cleans the sweat from out of my eyes. Grabbing my kit I put it on loading the first clip into the Autogun I make my way back to the wall area aiming at the multitude of green filth coming my way. I am not quite sure where to aim so I double check all my gear. The only sure bet for me would be to wait until possibly hitting a important part on the bikes and hope to cause some damage... oh well I got time...